Voyageur IV by Michel Henricot
This is Part 2 of a vignette I wrote a few weeks ago. If you would like to read Part 1 you can read it here.
* * * * * * * * *
He has never told her, Every time I meet you, I arrive expecting to find not you, but another woman asking me: Who are you?
He has never asked her, Do you feel the weight of prison bars on open, exposed flesh?
He has never told her, I feel oppression taking hold of your heart. And your eternity.
He has never asked her, Do you hear my muted wish?
He has never told. He has never asked. Because. Of Pride.
Besides, he has always believed that truly significant things are not meant to be said. Are unspeakable. Unutterable.
Words… no matter how beautiful… are treasons… to the Self. He has always believed.
And her beauty… like words… when expressed… creates pain. He has always told himself.
Is this pain a definition of love? Is it the treasonous words unsaid? He does not say this to her.
She is wearing her other face. The one he does not recognize. Yet, it is always there. That other face. As a determined yearning in her eyes. As a loneliness that refuses despair.
Will you ever find what you are searching for? He does not say this to her.
He sees what others cannot see: the white waves of fixed time. Her lips: delicate. soft. primitive. unspoiled. By spoken treasons to the Self.
My love, how lonely you are. He does not say this to her.
At the end of a day that crashed them into one another through: passion. tears. frustration. pain. She says to him only these words: Tell me a story. And don’t stop until I fall asleep.
Her fragile voice, wounding in its fragility, is powerless before the boundless expanse of loneliness.
Now. He wants to tell her things. To ask her things. And she wants to ask him things, too.
But.
She says to him only these words: Tell me a story. And don’t stop until I fall asleep.
He tells her a story. A fairy tale. Of a butterfly who one day finds her voice. And as he fumbles with his own words, he enjoys yet derides the new adventure.
Once upon a time, he begins.
And she says, Don’t stop until I fall asleep.
There was a butterfly, he says.
And she says, Don’t stop until I fall asleep.
And the sun sets. And the night comes. Always, the night. Like black death on a white steed.
The night. And his treasons. And her silence.
29 comments:
How does one say "I like this - LOVE this"? How does one being to express what your words touch - what things are drawn in the mind - what emotions are illuminated and re-felt? How does anyone EVER articulate the impact of the things you say?
All I can do is say, Wow.
what talent! I could read a whole novel in this sense. beautiful!
I would love to tell her stories--and there are many, of which each streaming could well begin the night's dreaming. What pleasantness. What sharing. What peacefulness. What love!
(Hey, Nevine...you write the nicest comment on my blog tonight. Thank you SO much. It makes breathing even MORE worthwhile.)
And Rumi is on your bookshelf tonight. Someone introduced me to Rumi within the past year...now a favorite!
Even surrounded by genius here, there, and everywhere, my writing attempts are for fun only, trying to grow a bit.
PEACE, Nevine...
Two individuals so much alike yet so distant and consumed by images, projections and constructions. While unspoken emotions are so difficult to translate into words, you have done it brilliantly. Each time I visit, I am able to discover another dimension of the human psyche. Nevine, you are an archeologist of the human mind (read mine). You excavate hidden civilizations of the mind in a very artistic way. And I am glad to devour the findings, each and every time.
Thanks for opening another chapter of the mind. When one reads your works, I guess it makes it easy for us to tackle situations which resemble the one in this post :)
Joy and much love,
Susan
The tension of that which is unspoken, almost always becomes a mainstay of mutual attraction. Curiosity and speculation become the puzzles we strive to solve together and apart.
That's so much like this love I love...but i don't want to fall sleep and thus fall apart. Sometimes it is the only way, though. And so is silence, the only way to say I love you.
This is just astounding, my dear Nevine...
Can say no more.
Touching and very beautiful
That image is vividly haunting... Stunning, it’s like some unknown silently watching you and it speaks 1000 words; It’s this kind of love where we silently express but don’t loudly tell the person we love how we feel. It can be very painful holding it in. I think we should always strive to loudly express our deepest feelings to each other no matter the circumstances. You write like a beautiful symphony my sweetest delight and I adore you for so much more besides how you lure me to your thoughts. I truly loved it~
Love and the warmest hugs,
Wild Rose~
this was so much better then any book I have ever read... it took me to places, better left unsaid...
Awww, my friend Nevine, your talent astounds me.
Your writing is so thought-provoking...every phrase brings out the emotion in me. Two great issues for pondering that this poem conjures..the one is distance in relationship, and the other one is "I'm in love with love" ...( the second one secretly applies to me).
Great play on words.
What an evocative, and brilliant piece.Loved it!
Count yourself among the terrific poets/writers, my dear dear friend!! :o)
Tons of love and hugs,
Betty xx
Lou – You never fail to surprise me with your kindness and your sweet words. You articulate with the nicest thoughts, so why ask how to articulations. Know that your articulations always touch my heart… and warm me from the inside out. Thank you so very much, Lou.
Kay – What an encouraging statement! And it is encouraging because I have been contemplating working these two characters into a novel of “dialogue.” I appreciate deeply your comment, Kay.
Steveroni – “… of which each streaming could well begin the night’s dreaming.” Wow! If that is not poetry, I don’t know what is. And what the mind streams… the heart reflects. And my comments are always from the heart, Steve. So know that I meant every word. Some of the best writing is writing that is “for fun only”, because it flows and does not stutter. As for Rumi, there is no warmer comfort for the ever-searching soul, is there? I mean, I drink from his cup… and I feel renewed. So nice to know we share a love for this genius of a poet! Thank you so much for your nice words, Steve.
Susan – “…projections and constructions” are exactly what these two are about. You seem to understand so very well where I’m coming from, Susan. You probably know, by now, that I am fascinated by the human mind… and by human emotion. I suppose there is no better way to understand ourselves than to try and understand why humans behave the way they do. I am ever searching… and sometimes what I find bends my mind in funny directions… and makes me write. Filled with joy and love to see you, Dear Susan.
Martin – I do so love the way you take what I’ve written in several hundred words and encapsulate it in a few very lovely words. Thank you!
Dulce – “And so is silence, the only way to say I love you.” That’s such a brilliant sentence, Dulce. Thank you, my dear Sweet.
Turquoise – Thank you!
Wild Rose – Any emotion held inside is painful. Sometimes, too, words shared can be painful. One of the biggest human dilemmas is making the decision on when we should or should not speak honestly and express our feelings. It’s a struggle, truly. And I don’t think we ever really learn how to get it “right.” And, I adore your words, here, always. They make me smile… and think… and smile. ;-) Love and warmest hugs back to you, my Wild Rose.
Sir Thomas – Better left unsaid? Okay, then. But thanks for the sweet comment! ;-)
Betty – You are too sweet for words. And let me tell you this: We are all secretly in love with love. Sometimes we are confused between being in love and being in love with love. It can make some relationships very painful. But… how to make the human heart beat to a rhythm other than the one it wishes to beat to? Thank you, Betty, for your always encouraging and nice comments, and tons of love and hugs back to you, my very dear friend!
There is always someone that we love and should not. And then the stories we tell to persuade ourselves to do the right thing are the strangest yet.
Nevine
There's so much here even beyond the beautiful writing;
things unsaid and said
wishes
the differences in men and women
and yes, the incurable loneliness that is love-not to be confused with the security of companionship. A group study could be made on this one poem and a thousand questions beyond answers would arise. Just as it should be.
~rick
breathtaking, captivating...there is so much to this one my friend, to say I love it doesnt seem enough, but I love it ;)
"Besides, he has always believed that truly significant things are not meant to be said. Are unspeakable. Unutterable."
Many times I've thought this to myself, that some things are beyond words and to even try is like a betrayal. But then I do try, like this man does, in "his treasons", and even though I might fail to fully express what I mean, the act of trying is a type of release.
I felt the unspoken truths between these two people so vividly, Nevine. A great continuation part 2 of the vignette!
Jai
Your ability to translate body language, a look, a sigh, a hesitation, a quiver, or something that is never uttered between two people into words, totally amazes me.
You are as deep as they come...
What should I say, its as always, spellbinding.
As always I loved reading you!
"And the sun sets. And the night comes. Always, the night. Like black death on a white steed.
The night. And his treasons. And her silence."
That's a very strange couple!
She is in love with love and he is expecting her to be someone else.
They never knew one another, did they? And they never will!
I like the parallel between their relationship and the life of a butterfly!
***
Gros BISOUS ma belle*******
Mme. DeFarge - Stranger than telling ourselves stories... I think... is loving someone we should not in the first place, though. Don't you think?
Rick - I love it when you visit. You read the lines... and everything between them. And you make me feel like you truly do understand... as I know you do... Always! Thank you for your readership, Rick... and most importantly... for your friendship.
Steven - And I love that you love it. Thank you, my dear friend... so much.
Jai - I am not kidding when I tell you that I often think the same thing to myself: I speak... and it is painful... and demanding... but at the end... comes the release. That is, unless I end up getting myself in trouble for speaking, in the first place! So glad you enjoyed Part 2, Jai!
Pat - And you are deep, too. I know this from reading your Vietnam memoirs. And it takes deep to recognize deep. Thank you for reading my writing so carefully, Pat. I really appreciate it.
Blasphemous Aesthete - You are, as always, kind with your words. Thank you for your dedicated visits... and for your lovely comments... every time!
Cremilde - It's unfortunate that there are so many relationships that work on these dynamics. And the butterfly... as delicate as their rocky union... destined to live a short life. Yes! Tu me comprends, comme toujours! Merci, mon amie. Bisous x 3!
Nevine, am just back at last... was missing these fixes of your delicious creations... will be back around, but just wanted to leave a word or two, to let you know you are far, far, far from forgotten in this corner of the planet...
:-)
solitudes... often never transcended
Owen - Dear Owen, you have so been missed... not only by me... I'm sure... but by many. However, Nevine speaks only for Nevine. So good to see you back... and I will be by to visit you sooner than you can say "SOON"!
LW - Got that right!!!
Such a beautiful piece -- both parts, of course. Hope you're doing well.
Jeff
wiredwriter26@gmail.com
Once again, I'd end up quoting massive parts of your poem to highlight what really touched me. You have a sort of inner eye that sees past surface reality to the core of pain and longing and then you release that knowing with gossamer wings. Truly extraordinary.
You're a talented art film maker,
You write scripts that leaves the reader in a long thoughtful silence after that....i could see parts of myself in the scenes....
The weight of your words has raindrops in slow motion....it could have dropped anywhere, on the soft bedded lawn, beneath a tree, into a pond, or from a leaky roof into a bucket.....
but your falls on my face!
into my silence!
Nevine, it was very, very captivating!
salaam!
Post a Comment